


At leisure

by Lacertae



Series: Kinktoberfest 2018 [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Banter, Established Relationship, Face-Sitting, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Omnics, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 12:52:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16284950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacertae/pseuds/Lacertae
Summary: Kinktober 2018 Day 01 - Lúcio/Zenyatta





	At leisure

**Author's Note:**

> posting here my collection as a series of drabbles, and this is the first! I won't do all days, but there's a bit yet to do so i hope you enjoy the ride!

**Day 01 -** _ ~~Deep-Throating~~_ | _~~Inflation~~_ | **Face-Sitting** | _~~Masks~~_

“Are you comfortable?”

A chuckle answers him as Lúcio stretches his arms above his head in an obvious show of practiced ease, a slow smile spreading on his lips. “Why shouldn’t I be? Bed’s big, pillow under my head is nice and soft, and the company?” Lúcio wriggles his eyebrows, managing to appear coy. “That’s the best part.”

Zen’s forehead array brightens for a second in a smile, humming in a way that appears to be indulgent, even as he moves one hand to caress the side of Lúcio’s face, gently, fingers lingering on the curve of his chin, on the short beard, and then down the curve of his neck, skin smooth and soft.

Then Zenyatta shifts. He crouches on the bed at Lúcio’s side, fingers lingering on his neck for a beat longer then he lifts his hips and moves one leg over Lúcio’s chest, straddling it. He is not heavy despite how his body is mostly composed of metal, and Lúcio does not even bat an eye, though the lazy stretch of his smile seems to grow a fraction wider.

“You’ve got to admit, I get a good view from down here,” he says, and Zenyatta’s forehead array flickers at the cheeky tone.

“Not quite as good as what I see from up here,” he answers, ever controlled, his tone teasing. “You look good under me.”

He doesn’t expect to get Lúcio flustered –the man is easy going and as grounded as Zenyatta himself is, very few things embarrass him– but it does get him to chuckle, the sound vibrating through Lúcio’s chest and up into Zenyatta’s body.

Zenyatta feels the laughter through his frame, and processes start up, his valve depressurizing behind his modesty plate. He enjoys Lúcio’s voice, perhaps more than he admits, and his laughter… oh, there is a special place for that within his core.

“I’ll look better once I get my mouth working, Zen,” Lúcio wriggles his eyebrows, and Zenyatta laughs, amused at his continued cheekiness. “You’d better get started, or I’ll never stop talking.”

“That is part of the appeal,” he murmurs, pleased, but his tone betrays the anticipation he feels as he moves closer to Lúcio’s face, until his modesty panel bumps against the curve of his chin.

Lúcio’s breath is hot against the metal, fogging it, and when Lúcio’s mouth parts and he pushes his tongue out to flatten it against the surface of his modesty panel, mocking what he is about to do, Zenyatta shivers despite himself.

“I’ll treat you just right, Zen,” Lúcio murmurs, and his voice shifts lower, almost throaty. Zenyatta is caught in his stare, realising with a start that he looks darker now, more focused than before, like the air around him changed to become sharper. “Will you open up for me?”

“As tempting as that sounds,” and oh, how easy it is to tease Lúcio, even when his processes are already far too interested in the proposition he offers, “perhaps it wouldn’t do to talk about my life and woes in such a situation–” and then his teasing breaks in a startled gasp when he feels Lúcio’s hands wrap around his thighs, tugging him up, lifting him so easily from where he sits, on his chest, and onto his face.

His modesty panel is still closed, but that doesn’t stop Lúcio, who pushes his tongue out and licks a trail, making a sound that is positively lewd.

“Zen,” he says, breathless against his modesty panel. “No teasing when I’m inches away from what I want.”

Zenyatta covers his synth with one hand, shoulders shaking in mirth, but Lúcio is insistent, and his fingers dip into the crevices and nooks of his thighs. It shows that he knows how to work around omnics, because he finds tiny sensors hidden under his plating so easily, even as his mouth parts as far as it can go, lips flat against his modesty panel–

With a tiny shiver, Zenyatta lets his modesty panel slide open.

Lúcio makes a greedy, throaty sound, and tugs Zenyatta closer, not even  allowing him a second to recalibrate.

His fingers lock with the lower curve of Zenyatta’s thighs, preventing him from moving away, grinning even as he starts to mouth at the wet, plump folds of Zenyatta’s valve, teal glow reflecting on his skin.

“ _Ah_ –”

Zenyatta shudders, processes recalibrating under Lúcio’s insistent lips, and his synth ripples with tiny sounds that he cannot keep quiet. Whenever Lúcio flicks his tongue against the glowing nub on top of his valve, Zenyatta quivers and exhales, breathless despite not needing air, fans whirring loudly in the silence of the room.

Lips push against his valve’s folds, a tongue flicking through them, and Zenyatta clenches around it, part of him wanting it to stay and plunge deeper, another part of him wanting for it to focus on his nub instead, burning and swollen.

It feels good – Lúcio knows exactly what to do, and Zenyatta is unabashed with his sounds, moans and tiny groans as he tries not to grind into the touch, until everything dissolves in a cloud of steam and pleasure and Lúcio’s mouth on him.

“Lúcio, please–” Zenyatta gasps and arches his back, his sensors alight with pleasure, and he tries to move away, to take a break from Lúcio’s mouth to recalibrate, so that he can make the experience last a little  longer, but Lúcio refuses to let him move, noses into his valve, pushes his tongue flat inside his valve, teasing, and comes back with his face wet with Zenyatta’s translucent slick, then does it again, and again. “I… slow down, I will co– _oh_ –”

And Lúcio grants his request, only after he’s latched his lips on his nub and sucked on it, lazy and slow, and pulls away, though only barely. Zenyatta feels his hot breath against his folds as he pants, and shudders, caught on the edge of an incoming overload.

“You can come,” Lúcio offers, impish, and Zenyatta’s valve clenches down on nothing as he looks down, Lúcio’s face framed perfectly in his  thighs, lips and chin stained teal. “That’s the point. Come for me, Zen?”

“I…” it’s hard to form a coherent thought, and Zenyatta has to restart twice, synth glitching as he shivers. He misses Lúcio’s mouth. “Too… soon, I want…”

“We can make it last,” and the way Lúcio smiles, wide and sly and warm, almost has Zenyatta come right then and there, without any added stimulus. “We do both like to come back for seconds, right?”

Zenyatta stutters, startled into a shaky laugh, even as his valve aches for more. “Your performances are… always worth a repetition, yes,” he manages, and Lúcio laughs, loud and amused, even as he pulls Zenyatta close again.

His mouth is back against his valve and Zenyatta arches up, now without worry about having to last, his hands coming to wrap around the locks of Lúcio’s hair, tugging gently at it even when Lúcio requires no further prompting to continue licking and sucking at Zenyatta’s wet, plump folds.


End file.
